


The Sleeping List

by Whisper132



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-12
Updated: 2006-06-12
Packaged: 2017-10-23 15:35:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whisper132/pseuds/Whisper132
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluff from Atobe and Jirou’s first year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sleeping List

Akutagawa Jirou’s first memory was of a large, purple ball descending into his crib. The ball had a big red star on it and a yellow stripe along the middle. It was, until third year of primary school, his favorite thing. In third year, the ball was stolen by one Mukahi Gakuto, who thought the ball was neat and asked Jirou if he could borrow it. While at Mukahi-kun’s house, the ball was exposed to a wakazashi, stolen from Mukahi’s father’s collection. Mukahi-kun apologized, but Jirou refused to speak to him all through primary school and into middle school.

Akutagawa Jirou was a loving, caring, nice guy. He wasn’t dumb, though, and once you betrayed his trust, you were on the Sleeping List.

In Jirou’s first year of middle school, Atobe Keigo was the first to be placed on the Sleeping List. He was loud and far too into himself to say anything interesting. His only redeeming quality was that his hair was the same peculiar shade of purple as the ball that Mukahi ruined.

“Hey Jirou, let’s go sit outside.” Gakuto tugged at Jirou’s sleeve as the two exited the lunch line.

Jirou yawned and looked down at his tray - salad again, because salads were the only thing the Hyoutei cooking staff could make without 1) ridiculous amounts of gravy or 2) an equally ridiculous amount of butter. “Sure.” Jirou gave Mukahi a big smile, just to show that the past was behind them and they could progress as friends from here on out. Being the only two to make it into Hyoutei Gakuen from their elementary school was a strain, but they would get along fine if they stuck together. Mukahi-kun was good at making friends and Jirou was good at not making enemies.

“You.” A chopstick, held in a pale hand, was pointed at Jirou. “Ore-sama wishes to speak with you.”

Jirou blinked. “Who wants to what?”

Atobe sighed. “Ore-sama wishes to speak with you. Come. Sit.” The legions at Atobe’s table shifted to allow room for Jirou.

“No thanks, we’re going outside. It was nice of you to invite us, though.” Jirou could hear the crackling of Atobe’s ego and his smile turned 20 watts brighter. “I could really go for a nice nap in the sun. You’ll wake me up in time for class, ne, Mukahi-kun?”

Gakuto nudged Jirou with his elbow. “He’s following us.”

Jirou shrugged. “Maybe he likes sitting outside, too.”

“He looks pissed off.”

Jirou yawned and rolled his shoulders. “It’s just stupid drama. We can do better things with our time than listen to people whine, ne? You should try napping, Mukahi-kun, it really helps put your mind back in focus.”

“Yeah, that’s great, but he looks really pissed off.”

With another yawn, Jirou turned around to face Atobe. “Whaaaat?”

“Ore-sama will not be ignored.” Atobe shifted his weight onto one foot and planted his palms on his hips.

“My sister stands like that,” Jirou said around another yawn. “You shouldn’t stand like a little girl, people will underestimate you.” He turned and continued walking outside. “C’mon if you’re going to follow us.”

Atobe followed, but only after letting out a sigh loud enough to ripple Jirou’s hair from ten feet away.

Once they were in a shady patch of grass, Jirou plopped down, using his backpack for a pillow. “Don’t forget to wake me up,” he told Gakuto.

Gakuto, pulling his bento from his bookbag, snorted out a “yeah, whatever,” before stuffing himself with rice and brownish green something. Gakuto made his own lunches, so you could never tell if the stuff that looked like food really was edible or was a can of dog food that Gakuto mistook for canned curry vegetables.

“Ore-sama does not appreciate being ignored.” Atobe was standing, foot tapping and squelching into a patch of soggy grass.

Gakuto snickered and Jirou opened his eyes enough to see out, but not enough for others to tell that they were open. He figured Gakuto could handle the drama queen. Jirou didn’t deal with Atobe’s sort.

“Are you going to bitch all lunch, cuz I wanna eat.” Gakuto spoke with his mouth full and rice dribbling down his chin.

“Disgusting.” Atobe averted his gaze to the canopy of the tree they were resting under. “Ore-sama wishes to discuss the Newcomer’s Tournament with Akutagawa-kun.”

“What about it?”

“Ore-sama wishes for Akutagawa-kun to decline the nomination. He is clearly not serious about the team if he spends half of practice sleeping.”

Jirou wondered how Atobe’s body managed to stay rooted to the ground when there was so much hot air trying to lift it. If a tennis ball hit Atobe, would his head pop? Maybe Jirou would try it at the next practice.

“Shhh. It’s too loud. Come sit.” Jirou faked a big yawn and patted the ground. To his amazement, Atobe sat. “Good, good. Now, we nap.” Jirou settled his head on Atobe’s lap, shifting until he was wonderfully comfortable.

“Ore-sama is not..” Atobe was cut off by Jirou’s finger against his lips.

“Nap now, complain later. Tennis is always better after you’re rested, ne?” Jirou closed his eyes and let sleep take him. When Gakuto tapped his forehead to wake him at the bell, Atobe was still there, head against the tree, asleep. “Let’s leave him,” Jirou said, smiling wide and bright. “He should nap a little more.”


End file.
